At the shore of the mainland, about fifty kilometers away from the Downed Prison, a skinny man waved a fishing rod and cast his line out to the calm dark waters.
With him, he had a bottle of beer tucked into his backpack and a radio playing a commentary of Punch Ball match between the Red Rockets and the Blue Bombers.
"Szzz…. And in the last few minutes of the game, the score has been settled in favor of the Blue Bombers with a score of 3-2.
"…Red Rockets are currently in possession of the ball, and they have one more chance at tying the game to go to overtime."
The young man checked the time on his wristwatch.
3:30 AM.
It was very late, but he was a night owl either way because of his job occupation that required him to work graveyard shifts.
Since today was his day off, he went to do some fishing and enjoy the quietness of the world.
Tap… tap… tap… tap…
In that moment, a few droplets of water began to fall from the dark skies, falling on the man's forehead and thick hair.
